


Won't You Be Mine

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bitty's adorable, Cleaning, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Shopping, Topless Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 01:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5849197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty's visiting Jack at his new house, but he can't put aside his feelings. And when they realize there's no guest bed, they just have to be adults about it.</p><p>I should add that the song that Bitty sings is Baby Boy by Beyonce. The title is from that same song.</p><p>Bless My heart.  GO. READ.   <a href="http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/57705111693">OMG Check Please</a>  I'll still be here when you're done.  And while you're there, support Ngozi thru her Paetron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't You Be Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 12 in 12 collection. The prompt was (loosely) -- the first time goes bad but it doesn't affect the relationship.

The signs along I-95 South passed in a blur of blaring music and crippling self-doubt. Walpole. Moose Hill Wildlife Sanctuary. Gillette Stadium. Pawtucket.

_Baby boy, you stay on my mind._

Bitty sang along to Beyoncé as he maneuvered the rush hour traffic around Providence, because if he sang, he couldn’t think about how stupid he was to come here.

_Fulfill my fantasies._

**Exit in one-quarter mile.**

Good Lord, he hadn’t paid any attention to the GPS, and now the exit was here, and he was in the wrong damn lane. He merged his solar yellow car over into the exit lane at the last moment and cut off the next car. He waved a cheery thank you to the driver who’d flipped him off.

In just a few miles, he’d see Jack for the first time in three months.

_I think about you all the time._

Professional hockey player Jack. Star rookie Jack. Former captain Jack. His crush. Jack.

_I see you in my dreams._

He had no idea what he was going to say to Jack. And that was just stupid, because they’d been teammates. Haus mates. They’d shared a bathroom. For goodness sake, they’d shared pie crust.

_Baby boy, not a day goes by._

Bitty breathed slowly to calm his stomach. He felt like he did before last Spring’s playoff game. He’d see Jack’s new house, let him show him Providence, and then get back to the Haus. The nice, safe, Jack-free Haus.

_Without my fantasies._

“That’s right, Beyoncé. You’d kick my butt for falling in love with a straight boy, wouldn’t you?” Bitty shook his head at his ridiculous self, and tried to figure out how to act normal. Be normal. Be Jack’s friend.

If he could just figure out how to begin, then everything else would fall in place.

**You have arrived. The destination is on your left.**

Bitty parked on the street and steeled himself for seeing Jack. He reminded himself that they’re friends. Nothing was going to--

The double-hand slap on Bitty’s window scared the bejeebers out of him. He shrieked and turned to a grinning face in his window. Jack wrenched open the door and pulled Bitty to him, almost squeezing the air out of him.

I’m glad you’re—” Jack said over Bitty’s shoulder, holding him a moment longer. “Providence is—C’mon inside.”

“Not so fast. I brought you a house-warming gift.” Bitty ducked back into his Scion before Jack could see the flush rising on his neck.

Jack’s smile grew as Bitty brought a pie and a tall, thin gift bag from the car.

“Pecan pie, still warm from the oven.” Bitty’s blush colored his cheeks. “And something bubbly as a housewarming gift.” Bitty handed Jack the silvery bag.

“Did you sneak into the liquor store?” Jack wrapped his arm around Bitty’s neck in a half-nelson, as they walked up the few steps to the front porch. All that was missing was the big brother knuckle-rub noogie. Sigh.

“D’yall think I’d do that?” Bitty asked, the flush returning to his cheeks. Having Jack so close, Bitty felt overwhelmed. His aftershave. His shampoo. If the others had come, Jack would have turned his attention to them by now. “It’s sparkling grape juice, because—”

“Always looking out for me.” Jack grinned as he released Bitty’s neck. "Where are the others?” He looked up the street, hoping to see the smoky exhaust trail of Lardo’s VW.

“Lardo had a meeting with her advisor. Holster and Ransom are with Coach. Shitty had some law school crisis. They wanted to reschedule, but I wanted to see you—your new home.”

Jack caught Bittle’s gaze, held it, and Bitty thought about those blue eyes. Blue like the summer sky in Georgia when he was out berry picking. Blue like his favorite pair of jeans, well-worn and well-known, comfortable like home.

 _Nope. Absolutely not the way to get over Jack Zimmermann_.

Bitty pushed past Jack into the foyer, looking for a spot to put the pie.

There were none.

It wasn’t that the house was cluttered and he couldn’t find a clean spot suitable for his pie. Jack literally had no place. The front room was bare. No furniture. Not a stick. No curtains. A few boxes sat open, their contents strewn around them on the shag carpet.

“This is—” Bitty carried his pie to the kitchen and shuddered at the countertop—harvest gold with copper flecks, probably from a 1970s remodel. He honestly didn’t know whether he was glad that at least a week’s worth of takeout containers covered most of it.

“It needs some work.” Jack apologized, as he scooted around Bittle and swept the garbage into the empty bin at the end of the counter. “A bunch of the guys live in the city, but—when I saw this house--” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think—it felt like home.”

Bitty softened at Jack’s words, and looked past the burnt orange carpeting and the harvest gold appliances. “It’s charming. It just needs love.” He smiled at Jack and placed the pie on the newly-cleaned counter. “Is there room in the fridge for the champagne?”

Jack handed Bitty the bottle with a smile and opened the refrigerator. Jack dropped his head into his hand and braced himself.

“Jack. Laurent. Zimmermann.” Bitty shut the refrigerator door and turned to Jack, whose eyes were scrunched closed. “I’m appalled. Speechless. I have no words. No words, do you understand?”

Jack peeked through one cracked-open eyelid. “You have a lot of words for someone with no words.”

Bitty gestured wildly, pointing in all directions. “I understood no furniture. I understood the dreadful shag carpet, and the frankly alarming harvest gold appliances. But you have No. Food.”

He slung the refrigerator door open, pointing to the lone box of baking soda at the back of the shelf. The champagne hadn’t even made it in.

Jack hung his head, and Bitty suspected the shaking shoulders weren’t from Jack’s sorrow. “That’s it. Shoes on. We’re going shopping.” He wagged his finger in Jack’s face, and when Jack looked up, he had tears in his eyes from laughing. “I will not allow you to live like this is the Haus. Let’s go!”

Bitty followed Jack to the big bedroom so Jack wouldn’t get sidetracked taping his hockey sticks or sharpening his skate blades. When Jack plopped down on his bed to tie his shoes, Bitty specifically did not think about Jack sitting on the bed. On the queen-sized bed. On the rumpled sheets on the queen size bed.

Jack turned to Bitty. “Are you driving?”

Bitty chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “My car?”

Jack raised his eyebrow as he shook his head. “Not in the Smiley Face Scion.”

Bitty defended his car as Jack locked the front door. “We got most of that off. Besides, yellow is a happy color.”

“Bittle. It’s a solar yellow Scion. Any one of those words is bad enough. Three in one sentence is too much.” Jack pulled open the garage door. Even in the gloom, the SUV sparkled. He popped the locks and climbed in behind the wheel. Bitty clambered up into the passenger seat.

“Ransom and Holster apologized for using the cooking spray to make the smiley face on my door.” Bitty laughed, not really able to defend the D-men.

“Also, this is a Beyoncé-free zone,” Jack warned as Bitty reached for the radio. “I pay extra for that.”

To Bitty’s delight, he found a station counting-down the top 10 Queen Bey singles and sang along to torture Jack; leaving the car didn’t stop Bitty, who danced in the parking spaces while he sang into his pretend microphone.

“Excuse me, Jack Zimmermann?” The tall, thin brunette woman with impeccable bone structure approached Jack with hesitation. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I could I get a selfie with you?”

 _Don’t mean to intrude,_ Bitty thought, staring at her small hips and big boobs pushed into that adorable sweater dress.

Jack smiled wanly and nodded. She wrapped her arm around his waist and stood as close as she could. _1_ , Bitty snarked. After she snapped the picture, she grabbed a pen from her purse and took Jack’s hand. “Here’s my number. I’m Mimi,” she said as she wrote with perfectly formed penmanship on the back of his hand.

_Probably teaches first grade. Models on weekends. Saves the world in her free time._

“Call me.” She smiled, and as she walked away, tossed a wink over her shoulder. Her hair swung across her shoulders as she walked away and looked back once to see if Jack were still watching.

Bitty fumed, his neck and shoulders rigid, as Jack stared at the woman. “I can’t get used to that,” Jack said, shaking his head.

“Beautiful women propositioning you?” Bitty needled Jack as they walked through the parking lot. The voice in his head blew a raspberry and taunted him. I told you never to fall for a straight boy.

“People caring who I am. If they really knew—” Jack looked down as he walked, deliberately avoiding Bitty’s eyes. Bitty’s irritation melted away. He wanted to wrap his arms around Jack and protect him.

“If they really knew, even more people would love you. Now, no more of that, mister.” Bitty playfully slapped Jack’s shoulder. “Get a buggy, and we’ll get our shopping on.”

Bitty insisted that they sit at the store’s tiny café with a bag of popcorn and drinks to plan their shopping strategy.

“Strategy?” Jack looked frightened, but Bitty just laughed.

“The aisles we can skip and the ones we have to go down.”

“Like the baking aisle?” Jack chirped, smiling at Bitty who was buried in his phone, pecking out a shopping list.

“Exactly.” When Bitty looked up in surprise, Jack was laughing at him. He put his phone in his pocket with an embarrassed half smile. “Uh, forget the list. We’ll just go up and down the aisles. Then we won’t miss anything.”

“Oh, good,” Jack deadpanned. Swatting Jack’s arm, Bitty led them to the cleaning products, and they were off. With each aisle, Jack’s eyes grew wider.

“I can’t believe the things they sell here.” Jack picked up a bottle of shampoo and examined the price. “This doesn’t cost very much, does it?” He checked the shelf tag like Bitty had shown him.

“I swear, Jack. It’s like you’ve never been in a Target.” Bitty teased Jack, who’d grown more fascinated with the contents of each aisle.

“I haven’t. I don’t shop.” Jack studied the shampoo bottle. “My parents have someone who does that for them.”

“But you—”

“They ship stuff to me. Ever since I—”

Bitty swallowed hard and nodded. Of course. Jack seemed fragile, and if a stranger approached him and started being a jerk—

“Well, shopping is overrated.” Bitty took control of the buggy to emphasize his words. “Let’s get out of here as fast as we can.”

“No, we’re ok. We’ll get what you think I need.” Jack smiled warmly, thankful that Bittle understood but didn’t baby him.

Bitty rolled his shoulders and checked the list on his phone. “Do you need…” and they wandered the aisles. The buggy filled quickly with items Bitty insisted Jack couldn’t live without.

“No one needs blue toilet water, Bittle.”

“I don’t need two dozen drinking glasses. And no, I don’t believe the entire team will come to my house at one time.”

“How much toilet paper do you think I use?” Jack groused as Bitty dropped a 48-roll pack into their second buggy.

“It’s only decent!” Bitty insisted on curtains for the living room and Jack’s bedroom, scandalized when Jack argued.

Bitty noticed that, when they approached the kitchen and housewares section, Jack took control of the shopping. He asked Bitty about stand mixers versus hand mixers. Silicone versus plastic utensils. What the difference was between pancake turners and spatulas. When Jack thought Bitty wasn’t looking, he placed every item Bitty ooh’d and aah’d over into the buggy. Including the KitchenAid stand mixer.

For a moment, Bitty imagined it was their kitchen that they were setting up. In their home. He smiled with longing at Jack, who surveyed the variety of baking pans and dropped one of each into the buggy.

“What?” Jack asked when he saw Bitty looking at him with that grin. “I need baking…stuff. I know how to bake.” He struggled to hold back his own smile, and instead, he pushed the cart into Bitty’s ankles.

They’d filled both carts to the top by the time they added in the groceries. Bitty watched the total on the register climb over $200. Over $500. Over $1000. He gulped when he saw the final number. “I’m so sorry, Jack. We can put a bunch of this stuff back…”

Jack smiled and slipped his card into the debit card machine. “It’s fine. If you say we need it, then we need it—I need it.” He cleared his throat and waited until he could return his card to his wallet.

_We._

“Do you want to grab dinner?” Jack asked as he loaded the bags into the back of the SUV.

“Sounds good, but don’t get used to it, Mr. Zimmermann. You have a kitchen, and I’m gonna teach y’all how to use it. We can’t have you putting weight on those hips.”

Bitty had never been so glad that dusk came early up north. At least Jack wouldn’t see his cheeks flame at what had just popped out of his mouth.

He saw the hint of a smile as Jack slammed the hatchback closed. “Protein, Bittle.”

Fortified by takeout pizza and mutually agreed upon music at full volume from the iPod speakers, Bitty devised a list of chores for the evening. Occasionally, they’d rendezvous for another slice of pizza or another bottle of water.

“You aren’t the Kramdens, Jack. You need curtains.” Bitty simply pointed to the living room window when Jack argued.

“I don’t know what that means.” Jack stared blankly, waiting for the explanation. This was Bitty. There would be an explanation.

Hands on his hips and mouth open, Bitty finally said, “Have you never seen The Honeymooners?” For the next 20 minutes, he explained the basic plot of the old-time tv show.

Jack hung curtains in the living room and the master bedroom. He pulled up the shag carpet in the living room, and to Bitty’s delight, found beautiful, hardwood flooring underneath.

Once they uncovered natural flooring in the living room, Bitty ran to Jack’s bedroom and, with more strength than Jack realized Bittle possessed, ripped back a corner of that wall-to-wall. The carpet hid vintage linoleum tiles, laid in a black and grey checkerboard pattern. Bitty squeed. “This flooring is perfectly charming. You are so lucky.”

He returned to scrubbing, instructing Jack to “get rid of that mustard yellow nightmare in your bedroom as soon as possible.”

To Jack’s delight, the flooring discoveries at least prompted Bitty to stop talking about sitcoms. He moved on to HGTV and the most fabulous show called Love It or List It. And the show’s hosts, especially the one who loved a tight-fitting suit.

As he chittered on about television, music, Beyoncé, and hockey, Bitty never stopped moving. He scrubbed the kitchen cabinets and counters and floors. The inside of the oven, declaring it “a sin against God and nature, Jack. It’s criminal what they have done to this oven.”

Bitty moved onto the bathroom, where he held his breath and scrubbed the shower and sink. “Jack?” he hollered across the house. “What color is your tub?”

Jack stopped pulling up rug tacks for a moment. He rubbed his chin and took a swig of water. “Grey, I think.”

“Actually, it’s eggshell.” Bitty stared at the tub as the foaming cleanser worked, leaving streaks of beige in its wake.

Jack clamped a hand on Bitty’s shoulder. “You’re handy to have around.” He ruffled Bittle’s hair before he returned to the tacks.

Bitty returned to scrubbing with a renewed purpose. After success with the tub and sink, he opened the toilet bowl lid and dropped it like it had bitten him. The pizza churned in his stomach, but he did acknowledge it wasn’t as bad his toilet in the Haus had been when he moved in.

But it was a close second.

He conceded that several dollops of bleach in the toilet overnight would go further than any scrubbing he could do. Also, he didn’t relish the idea of his dinner returning because of that. toilet.

Jack stood in the bathroom doorway. “Bitty, I just can’t any more.”

That’s what Bitty thought Jack had said, but his brain short circuited. At some point, working hard in the stuffy house, Jack had removed his t-shirt. He must have used it to wipe himself down, Bitty thought, based on the streaks of sweat and dust on the shirt that dangled out of Jack’s back pocket.

“I pulled up the rugs and the tacks. I hauled them to the curb. But I’ve got to sleep.” Jack checked his phone. “Shit. It’s almost 2. I have to be on the ice in a few hours.”

“I’ve done all I can in here anyway.” Bitty sounded defeated, but as he looked at the small bathroom, he was shocked to see it shine in the bright, fluorescent lighting.

He stored his supplies under the sink and washed his hands. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Jack was right; he needed sleep, too. “Now, where can I find a spare pillow and blanket?”

Bitty watched Jack’s face change from happy to embarrassed. “Tabarnak! You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Bitty looked at the dirty floor tiles, pieces of 40-year-old carpet padding still stuck in places. He spotted a half-dozen tacks without even really looking. The queen size bed made his pulse race. “Don’t be silly. You’re not sleeping on the floor. We can share the bed. I mean, it’s big enough and…”

Jack cleared his throat and avoided Bitty’s eyes. “Yeah. I didn’t know if you’d mind—”

“We’ve shared the same bus seat. It’s about the same, don’tcha think.” Bitty bent over his bag, pretending to search for his toothbrush. He couldn’t look at Jack. If he did, he knew Jack would see his grin. This wasn’t how he wanted to be invited to share Jack’s bed, but it was better than not at all.

Once he could control his smile, Bitty stood up, holding a clean shirt and his toothbrush. He peeked out the bathroom door to gauge how Jack felt about the sleeping arrangements. Jack was straightening the sheets and blankets and plumping the spare pillows. Humming one of Beyoncé’s songs they’d talked about earlier.

Bitty fussed at himself in the bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth. “Now, don’t dive in, Bittle. It just makes sense. It’s just a bed.” His stomach swooped at the word bed.

Jack knocked and walked in before Bitty had finished. Bitty turned around, guilt written on his face as if Jack could hear his thoughts.

“Got a spot of something white there.” With his wet toothbrush, Jack pointed toward Bitty’s mouth. Bitty swiped at the wrong side.

Mouth full of toothpaste foam, Jack looked up and laughed. He tried to say other side but Bitty didn’t understand and when he finally did, couldn’t find the spot.

Jack wet his finger and gently swiped it over the toothpaste smudge at the corner of Bitty’s lips. “There.”

At least Bitty thought he’d said there. He couldn’t really focus on anything except the tingle in that spot. But that was from the cinnamon toothpaste. Had to be.

Jack dried his hands. “At this rate, we’ll have to be up before we even get to sleep.” He padded back to the bed and slid under the blankets on the left side. “Night, Bittle.”

Before Bitty had even pulled the covers back on his side, Jack was asleep, tiny huffs of breath grazing his pillow. Bitty watched Jack for a moment, curled up on his left side, and smiled. He finished off the last of the water bottle and climbed into the bed.

He’d devised a plan, and it was a dang good one. He’d just lie there, on the edge of the bed, and stay awake all night. Then he couldn’t do anything foolish like hold Jack’s hand or tangle their legs. Or snuggle up behind him, breathing him in. At that thought, Bitty moved as close to the edge as he could without falling off.

Jack slept without moving. Not his head, or his legs, not even his arms. Just lay on his side and slept.

Bitty listened and realized that his breathing his synced with Jack’s. He held his eyes open and watched the clock change from minute to minute. 2:35. 2:36. 2:37.

Bitty didn’t want to be get out of bed, but his bladder had a different opinion. That last bottle of water before bed... He wanted to stay here, warmer and more comfortable than he’d ever been in his life. Must be some fancy, high-end mattress, because it enveloped him.

Bitty’s sleep cleared enough to know that mattresses don’t hug.

They don’t press against your back, when you’re on your side.

And they don’t have a freakin hard on, sticking in your thigh.

4:02. _Dammitdammitdammit. I fell asleep._

He took a moment to enjoy the feeling of Jack pressed up behind him, the delicious warmth between their bodies. Then, before he could regret his choice, Bitty disentangled Jack’s arms and legs from his and slipped out of the bed.

“Where going?” Jack mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Gotta pee.” Bitty stopped and looked back at Jack, who’d pulled the cover up to his chin. He hadn’t moved to his own side, though, but stayed on Bitty’s.

“Hurry back.”

Bitty sighed at Jack’s words. If only he meant them for Bitty, instead of whatever puck bunny he thought was in his bed that night. When he finished, he washed his hands in the cold water, and walked as quietly as he could back to bed. Just a few more hours. Then he could go back to the Haus and figure out a way to move on.

Bitty sat on the edge of the bed, steeling himself for the torture of lying next to Jack. His stomach ached, and he was pretty sure he felt tears prickle at his eyelids.

“Bitty, you’re letting cold air under the blanket. Lie down.” Jack’s arm snaked around Bitty’s waist and gently tugged him back.

“You know it’s me?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Jack propped himself up on his elbow and struggled to keep his eyes open. “We never talked about this, but I thought you liked—”

Jack pulled his arm back like he’d touched ice. “Did I misread—I thought—” He rolled away from Bitty and pulled the blanket as high as he could.

Jack’s voice was small and muffled. “I’m sorry.”

Bitty turned to Jack and tried to figure out what had just happened. “You knew it was me?” he asked again, rolling the hem of his shirt around his forefinger so hard that he couldn’t feel the tip of his finger.

“Of course I knew. Go to sleep.”

Bitty grinned. “Thank you, Lord Jesus,” he said and slid over to curve around Jack.

To press himself against Jack’s back.

To stick the beginnings of his freakin hard on into Jack’s thigh.

He pressed his palm against Jack’s abdomen, and Jack squeaked. He pried Bitty’s fingers off his skin.

Bitty had tensed, sure he’d screwed up again.

“Your hands are cold.” Jack threaded their fingers and put their hands back on his belly “At least warm them up next time.”

Next time.

Bitty hesitated, then brushed his lips over Jack’s shoulder. Jack hummed and closed the microscopic space between their bodies. “If I had any energy, Bittle, I would explore every inch of your body. And I hate myself for this. But I can’t stay awake. Later?”

As his answer, Bitty kissed Jack’s shoulder and then placed his head next to Jack’s on the pillow. He heard Jack’s slow, even breathing. Relaxed. At ease. Bitty breathed in and out with him, and melted against him.

“I have to be on the ice at 7. Stay?”

Jack’s voice surprised him. He nodded his head, his cheek caressing Jack’s shoulder.

“Good.” And Jack’s breath rasped a tiny snore.

It wasn’t how Bitty had ever fantasized his first time in bed with Jack would be. But really. It was so much more.


End file.
